


Riding on the Winds of Time

by Eadapel



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-15 23:22:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21261311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eadapel/pseuds/Eadapel
Summary: In one turning of the Wheel, Kari Al'Thor wasted away when Rand was young, scarcely able to recall her face. This is not that turning. Here, a 14-year-old Rand spends the night by his sick mother's bed and awakes in the morning to find her health returning, while he falls prey to a brief, but intense illness. In this turning, Rand has known the Power for 6 years by the time Trollocs appear. The Dragon rides again on the winds of time.





	1. Chapter 1 - Quarry Road

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

Rising in the shrouded peaks, the wind blew east, through the Sand Hills; blasted remnants of beaches from the last age, and along the Quarry Road towards the town of Emond’s Field. On the road, the wind tore at the cloaks of three figures making their way along the track.

Frigid gusts whipped around Rand Al’Thor, penetrating his coat as if it were nothing, but he did not shiver. Rand had long since learned the trick to ignoring the cold and his father, Tam also felt nothing or at least hid it well. His mother, Kari, however, was not so lucky. Wrapped in two of the thickest coats the Al’Thor family-owned and sticking to windshield created by Bela, the horse, she still shivered violently against the cold. No word of complaint was raised though, Emond’s Fielders were hardy folk.

_Why is it so cold? Where is spring?_ Rand was no longer startled when the voice spoke in his mind, and Lews Therin was in a chattier, and saner, mood today, keeping up a coherent, if one-sided, conversation since they had left the farm. Most of his comments were on the weather, which Rand had to admit was unusually cold, spring should have arrived weeks ago, interspersed with random anecdotes of his life in the previous age.

Rand was aware that people didn’t usually hear voices in their heads; it was a sign of madness, but that was fair because he probably was mad. It was, after all, an inevitability that all men who could channel went insane. He was honestly surprised to retain as much sanity as he did, having first touched _Saidin_ almost six years ago. Kari had been struck by a terrible illness, he and Tam had bought her into the village for the Wisdom, not Nynaeve but her predecessor Mistress Barran had tended to her. For a week the Wisdom had treated Kari using every herb grown in the Two Rivers, and several purchased from Baerlon, but nothing helped, and Kari continued to waste away.

Finally, after Mistress Barran had given up hope, Rand had spent a night by his mother’s bedside, calling on the Creator to save her. When he awoke, Kari had begun a miraculous discovery, while Rand contracted a mysterious sickness, though, despite fears it would worsen, he quickly recovered. It was 6 months before Rand channelled again, this time defending his sheep from a pack of wolves, and another 3 before he realised what it was. During archery lessons with Tam, he found the void coming easier and easier, until finally he slipped into it truly, and found _Saidin_ pulsing in the edge of his consciousness. It had felt like falling into a frozen lake and sticking his hand in a fire at the same time, a shock that made him feel gloriously alive. But accompanying the euphoria was the taint, putrid like rotting meat or curdled milk, he had thrown up, and thus been ferried inside by Tam, fearful of another bout of sickness.

Thankfully, it never came, and despite his best efforts to avoid touching the source, Rand felt ever drawn to it, and over the next year drew on it more and more, inventing weaves to help him take care of Bela and the sheep, as well as fix the fencing around the farm. It was around this time that the voice of Lews Therin first spoke to Rand, at first he found himself thinking odd thoughts that weren’t his own, drawing comparisons to people he’d never met or objects he’d never seen. Rand couldn’t say when the thoughts became their own voice but soon Lews was treating Rand to long monologues about Ilyena while he worked on the farm. Eventually, though Lews calmed, and became saner, sometimes going for long stretches lecturing Rand on the use of the One Power with the air of someone used to giving such speeches. At present Lews was not fully lucid, but neither was he ranting and raving, one of his better days.

_It should be spring. _The voice’s stubborn repetition jerked Rand from his reverie, and he adjusted his grip on his bow. _It’s a bad year _he told Lews, _they happen, the old Wisdom said once that spring never came during her grandmother’s mother’s time. Emond’s Field survived that, we’ll survive this._ The voice was silent for a moment before he said again _It should be spring,_ though softer this time. Rand sighed and scanned the treeline again, as much as he wished to ignore the madman he was right, it should be spring by now, wolves should not attack men, and bears should not be seen at all.

A glance at Tam showed him scanning his side of the road holding his spear as a walking stick, though Rand could see his white-knuckled grip through the void. Kari gave him an encouraging smile, and he turned back to the forest, glancing over his shoulder as he did so. Rand almost froze. There, not twenty spans back from their small party was a rider. Both man and horse were black, and it was almost impossible to discern anything but their shape. The longer he stared the more unnerved Rand felt, there was something wrong with the rider, something… _FADE!_ Lews Therin suddenly screamed in his mind.

Rand missed his step, almost falling to the ground he spun his body around to face the rider, drawing the arrow he had knocked up to his cheek to let it loose at… nothing? He had only removed his eyes for a second, where had it gone? _EYELESS ABOMINATION! _Lews was still raving, _KILL IT, KILL IT, KILL ALL OF AGINOR’S SPAWN!_

“Lad,” Tam’s voice drew him back to the world, and Rand realised he was standing in the middle of the road, bow fully drawn and pointing at nothing. “Something the matter?”

“A rider,” he replied, “There was a rider following us,” Tam eyed the road dubiously while Lews continued to rant about destroying shadowspawn.

“There’s no one there,” Kari said gently, but Rand did not lower his bow for several more long moments.

“There was a rider,” he insisted, “there was, dressed all in black.” _EYELESS, HALFMAN!_ “He had no eyes,” Rand added, Lews was often right about things like this, even if he was insane. This startled a reaction out of Tam, who suddenly hefted his spear more seriously than before.

“Stay with Kari, I’ll go…”

“No!” Rand said suddenly, “there’s no need, I’m sure I imagined it.” Tam looked at him oddly for a moment, but Rand would not let him face the creature alone, and if one glance had unsettled Lews Therin this much, in a fight he might do something drastic like draw on _Saidin_, and Rand had no intention of letting anyone know he could channel, even Tam. “Let’s just get to the village,” he floundered desperately for an excuse, “we should get Kari out of the cold.”

This was enough for Tam to abandon his ideas of chasing after the figure, “Aye,” he said slowly, “aye lad, you’re right. Out of the cold and a good cup of mead is what we could all do with now.” Rand nodded with relief, and they both turned back to the road.

“Of course,” Kari added, with a sudden grin, “I imagine you can’t wait to see Egwene either?”

Rand barely managed to avoid a grimace. He had done his best to avoid Egwene in the years since he had started channelling, everyone expected them to marry, but Rand didn’t think she deserved to be tied to a man destined to go mad and die. Ignoring Kari for now, he centred himself in the void again, resolutely ignoring the siren’s call of _Saidin_, and the three of them slowly continued into the village.


	2. Chapter 2 - More Sightings

It was with relief that Rand and his family entered Emond’s Field. He had spent the entire journey checking over his shoulder, but no Eyeless men in black could be seen, meanwhile, Tam shot the occasional concerned look in his direction, though he made no comment. What's more, Lews Therin had been silent, and while Rand usually appreciated having silence in his own mind, now for once he wished that the long-dead man would talk, he clearly had more knowledge about the situation than Rand did, even if his comments were deranged.

They were stopped many times as they made their way through the village, men would stop and speak with Tam, while their wives talked with Kari. Rand stepped closer to listen in on Tam’s conversations, it seemed like most of the Westwood smallholders had chosen to skip Bel Tine and remain on their farms, and those that had come all spoke of the same things, wolves, bears and the cold. Tam was surprised to hear the mention of stillborn lambs though, and Rand allowed himself a small smile. It had taken him months of practice to perfect the weave that allowed him to see into a ewe’s womb, but once he had it was easy enough to heal the lambs before they were. He took his victories with _Saidin_ wherever he could, no matter how small.

Eventually, though, they made it to Master Al’Vere’s Inn, Wit Congar’s complaint’s about Nynaeve staved off by Kari’s hard stare. The mayor greeted Tam while Kari moved inside to find Mistress Al’Vere, Rand found himself standing aimlessly by the barrels, his thoughts turning once again to the rider. A Myrddraal. It had been nothing like the 50-foot monsters described in the stories Kari had used to frighten him when he was little, but Rand was beginning to feel like that would have been preferable to the sheer weight of hatred he had felt from its eyeless stare. Furthermore, why was it after-

“Rand, psst.”

Cursing, Rand made an aborted move to grasp a sword that wasn’t there and whirled to face the voice, slipping smoothly into the void, ready to seize _Saidin_ at a moment’s notice.

“Light, what’s gotten you so twitchy today?” Rand released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and let go of the void. The voice had been Mat’s, not some shadowspawn.

“Nothing,” he responded, “it’s bad up at the farm, that’s all. I was lost in thought and took you for a wolf.” Mat frowned at him but did not push further, for which he was grateful.

“Well, best take your mind off it then, me and Dev caught a badger, nasty old thing, we’re going to set it loose on the green, watch the girls run.” Mat grinned at him, and Rand did his best to smile back, while it might have sounded like fun, he knew it would do nothing to take his mind off the Fade, and would certainly not be worth the thrashing he would get from Kari when she found out.

“I can’t Mat, I promised Tam I’d help with the barrels.”

“Burn the barrels, Rand, if not the badger then there are better things to do. Did you hear there are strangers in the-“

“Strangers, who?” Rand’s breathing stopped as he focused intently on Mat, “a rider in a black cloak? It didn’t move in the wind?”

Mat’s face suddenly took on the same stricken serious as Rand’s, “you saw him too? Don’t laugh Rand, but he scared me.”

“I’m not laughing Mat, he scared me too. I swear he hated me, would have killed me if he could.”

“I don’t know about hating, Rand, but he scared me enough. Just sat there on his horse, and I looked away for a moment – not an easy thing to do, mind you – and then he was gone!” Mat gave a shaky laugh, but his usual flair was missing, “I’ve been looking over my shoulder all day, and for a minute – just a minute – I thought it might be the Dark One.” Mat finished in a whisper, and another failed laugh, this time making no sound.

“Or one of his creatures,” Rand muttered under his breath. Mat looked at him oddly but ploughed on with his explanations.

“Whatever it was, he was evil, I’ll swear on oath on it. Maybe it was the dragon?” This time Rand couldn’t repress a snort, though at Mat’s betrayed look he hastened to explain.

“What would the dragon be doing in Two Rivers Mat? Living a new life as a farmer?” he said dryly. Mat opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Tam.

“Good morning Matrim,” Rand turned to face Tam and Master Al’Vere, who had been joined by Cenn Buie while they had been talking, “I see you’ve turned up to help Rand with the barrels, good Lad.”

Mat lept smoothly to his feet, “Good morning to you Master Al’Thor, Master Al’Vere, Master Buie, may the Light shine on you. My da sent me-“

“I’m sure he did,” Tam interjected, “and seeing as you’re the type of lad who gets his chores done right off, I assume you’ve finished already. The quicker you get this cider into Master al’Vere’s cellar, the sooner you can see the gleeman.”

“Gleeman?” Mat stopped attempting to slink off and stared expectantly at Tam, “when will he get here?” Rand also looked to the men, but for different reasons. Gleemen were well-travelled if there was ever a chance of some recognising what he was, it was now.

“He’s already here,” Master al’Vere said, shaking his head, “arrived in the dead of night he did, banging on my doors demanding to be let in. Were it not for Festival I’d have told him to stable his own horse, gleeman or not.”

Cenn was muttering under his breath, something about ‘madmen’, and for once in his life Rand found himself agreeing. No one travelled by night these days, not between farms, definitely not all the way from Taren Ferry and most definitely not alone. Unbidden, Rand’s mind wandered again to the Myrddraal and appeared Mat’s had as well.

“He doesn’t wear a black cloak does he?”

Master al’Vere laughed at that, “Black! No lad, his cloak is like every other gleeman’s cloak I’ve seen. More patch than fabric and more colours than you’ve ever seen.” Mat gave a relieved chuckle, but Rand was still sceptical. The Fade had been after Mat too, and Rand was certain Mat was not hiding any secrets that would bring the Dark One’s minions like he was, so how had the gleeman survived his journey?

Distantly he heard Mat exclaim something about fireworks, but he pushed it out of his mind. Maybe he was getting paranoid over nothing, but something in him was telling that there must be more to this gleeman who so blatantly travelled by night on unfamiliar rodes. Was it confidence in himself, or in his allies?

At some point the men headed inside to sample Mistress al’Vere’s selection of wines, leaving Mat and Rand to unload the cart. He did his best to respond to Mat’s worries over whether his latest mischief had been discovered, and resolutely ignored his teasing about Egwene, Light, Rand hadn’t even thought of her, and together they moved the barrels.


	3. Chapter 3 - Strangers

It turned out in addition to shadowspawn and suspicious gleemen, there was also a Lady and her sworn man in Emond’s Field. As he and Mat left Ewin Finngar behind, Rand was beginning to wonder whether it would have been better to have invented an excuse to stay behind on the farm.

“There _is_ a gleeman though,” Mat was saying, “the Mayor said so himself, why won’t anyone believe me?”

Rand was about to ask Mat if he was actually asking that in all seriousness when the words died in his throat. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he paused in his stride, the sensation of being watched filling him. Almost unconsciously he slipped into the void and glanced around. Nothing looked out of place, children played on the green while adults busied about preparing for the Festival, but still, the feeling persisted.

Rand spun. There, on the roof of the in, was a raven, large black eye trained right on him. On instinct, he seized _Saidin_. With practised ease he pushed aside the vileness of the taint, centring himself with the comforting torrent that was the One Power and glared right back at the bird. _Begone vermin!_ Lews Therin growled in his mind, evidently awakened by the touch of _Saidin_, and Rand added his anger to his own, though this only made the bird cock its head.

“I’m tired of being stared at.” Mat muttered, he too was staring at the raven, though with a touch more unease. They shared a glance and together bent down to grab stones. Moving in a single fluid motion, Rand straightened and loosed threw true, his strength enhanced by the One Power. Mat’s stone flew a second later but the bird merely stepped aside, seemingly mocking them, before flying off.

“I’ve never seen a raven do that,” he said in a low voice, eyes still trained on the slowly vanishing spec in the distance.

“Neither have I,” Mat replied, “nor any other bird for that matter.”

“A vile bird,” a woman’s voice said, “to be mistrusted at the best of times.”

Mat and Rand both turned to face the voice, though Rand blinked before realising he needed to look down to see the person who had spoken. When he had heard she had called the Wisdom ‘child’ he had expected someone much older, perhaps someone old a wrinkled like the Mayor’s mother, or at the very least near their middle years like Master Luhan. Instead, the Lady looked barely older the Nynaeve, though her eyes hinted at a maturity far beyond the Wisdom’s and she almost effortlessly exuded a presence that nobody in the village could match. He searched her face for more hints at her age, but it was futile, the Lady Moiraine seemed almost ageless.

_She is bound!_

Lews Therin’s voice startled Rand, and he lost his hold on _Saidin_. _What? _he asked the voice, _she’s what?_

_Bound,_ was the response, tinged with confusion, _a criminal bound by oath to never repeat their crimes, but what had she done? _A criminal? Lady Moiraine did not look like a criminal, nor did she look capable of committing any kind of crime, Light’s sake, she barely came up to his chest! Criminals also did not wear dresses like that, the sort that would cost a Two River’s girl five years savings, and it did not look stolen, not with how comfortable she looked in it. Though Rand felt she was the kind of woman who could look comfortable and imposing cloaked only in rags.

She was speaking now to Mat, and Ewin who had snuck back up to them again, but Rand was too busy trying to draw out more information from Lews Therin. _What do you mean by a criminal? How can you tell?_ Lews hummed for a moment before responding, _it’s her face you see, look at the way the skin is stretched, she’s been forced to swear an oath on a binder. _Rand did his best to study her some more without looking like he was staring, he supposed the ageless look could be achieved by stretching the skin but had no idea how that would work unless the Lady pulled up her hair to reveal a large clip holding her scalp taunt.

Seeing as Lews was in one of his lecturing moods, Rand pushed further, _what’s a binder?_ This seemed to amuse him, _why, anyone would think you’ve never been to school? _Rand hadn’t the faintest idea what a school was, until an image of a group of some score of young children sitting behind small tables floating in his mind, but he let Lews continue, _a binder is a _ter’angreal_, a rod about a foot long and as wide as your wrist. Oaths sworn on them cannot be broken, and the act itself cuts a person lifespan in half so they were not used lightly. The last time I heard of one being used was when Nemene-_

Rand would have to ask about this Nemene later because at the point Mat elbowed him sharply in the side. Lady Moiraine was looking at him expectantly, and he realised he had missed the entire conversation and had if the slightly amused look on her face was anything to go by, appeared to have been staring at her.

“She asked your name you wool-headed fool.” Mat hissed, though Rand felt the Lady heard him anyway.

“My name is Rand al’Thor, my Lady,” he said, trying to sound like he hadn’t been having a mental argument about whether or not she had been punished for some crime, or had been coerced into swearing an unbreakable oath. Thankfully she did not seem to read that from his words and merely curled her lips in a kind of secretive smile.

“Well, Mat, Ewin, Rand,” as she spoke goosebumps lit up along Rand’s arms, “while I am here I may have some small tasks that will need seeing to at times, perhaps you would be willing to assist me?” Rand gave a small nod, while Mat and Ewin tripped over themselves to give their assent. “Here,” she said, and suddenly produced a handful of silver coins, and she pressed one each into their hands.

“There’s no need…” Rand began but trailed off at her look.

“Of course there is, you cannot be expected to work for nothing. All I ask is that you keep it with you, to remind you that you have agreed to help me. There is a bond between us now.” Inwardly Rand frowned at her wording, turning the coin over in his palm while Ewin happily embarrassed himself.

“Pardon me my Lady, Moiraine, but why are you here?” her expression did not change, but Mat and Ewin looked at him confused, “I do not mean to be rude, but Emond’s Field is a long way from anywhere, surely there are more interesting places for someone like yourself to visit? No one has before, only the occasional peddler and gleeman.” Her smile did fade then, and she looked off to the side as if recalling something.

“I am a student of history,” she said at last, “ a collector of stories. This region, the two rivers, has always interested me, I like to study the stories of this place, and many others.” He did not feel as if she were lying, but equally, it did not seem the whole truth, her words were too carefully, spoken like statements rather than as answers. Nevertheless, he accepted it. For now.

“What stories?” Mat asked, “there’s nothing in the Two Rivers but sheep, and I’ve never heard any heroic stories about them.”

“The Wheel of Time turns,” Moiraine said, “places hold different names, men wear different faces. Different faces, but the same man underneath. No one can know the Great Pattern the Wheel weaves, we can only watch, study and hope.” Mat and Ewin both looked confused, Moiraine looked like she had not spoken for them to hear. Rand had only just been able to follow her, it sounded a lot like one of Lews Therin’s lectures on philosophy that he was fond of giving while Rand mended fences. Abruptly she turned back to face them, “later we will talk.” None of them said a word. “Later.”

With that, she moved towards the Wagon Bridge, gliding over the ground as if it weren’t unsteady cobbles and pitted earth. A man Rand hadn’t noticed before detached himself from the side of the inn and followed her. He was tall and well built, and one hand rested on the hilt of his sword. His cloaked seemed to be shifting colours constantly, trying to blend into the green and brown hues that were behind him, at times almost succeeding. Fancloth, a voice in his mind that sounded like Lews Therin said, with it came an image of a woman with golden hair wrapped in a shawl of the material, a sly smile of her face. Rand shook himself out of the recollection as the man seemed to pass his gaze over the boys, hard eyes seeming to judge them, yet giving no idea if he had found them worthy.

Eventually, he broke away and caught up with Lady Moiraine, matching her pace at her shoulder, then bending down speak in her ear. Mat and Ewin were chattering away again, seemingly amazed by the silver coin they had been given, but Rand kept his eyes trained on the diminishing figures. Idly confirming Ewin’s question about the gleeman, he watched as a varied group of townsfolk, from old men to young girls, crowded around a tall wagon as it worked its way into the green. The peddler had arrived.

There was an outlander woman who may or may not be a bound criminal, her clearly deadly companion, a gleeman who was either fearless or foolish and a peddler in the town, and shadowspawn outside it. Rand was really beginning to wish he had stayed on the farm.


End file.
